Bruises Are Back In Style
by butimbroken
Summary: Buffy/Angel. AU. Angel begins to have visions of a girl who he has never met.


Liam O'Shea, more commonly known as Angel, was looking a little worse for wear the morning after his cousin's engagement party. He usually wasn't that much of a drinker but work had been taking its toll on him in the past couple of months and he got a little over his head last night. 'At least it'd felt good at the time,' he thought.

This, however, was no longer the case.

Sitting up, he felt a little woozy so began to lower his head down into his lap. His eyes closed and he let the heel of his hands rub a bit roughly into his aching and itchy eyes while letting out a low groaning noise.

Immediately, once his eyes shut, the image of the blonde who'd haunted him all night in his dreams came to mind and he let out another groan. The woman had plagued his dreams all night long, nearly making his morning worse off than the hangover was. He couldn't place her anywhere so he figured she was either just a random face he'd seen at some point or another, or that she was simply a figment of his imagination, but either way she'd given him hell all night.

Colored dots danced in front of his eyes once he dared to move any more than that again. They were still there, making him dizzy, as he got to his feet. "Ugh," he said in disgust. He'd nearly fallen right back over... all that movement reminded him that he smelled like sweat and alcohol. Pointing himself toward the bathroom door, he began to stumble his way in that direction. Angel's body protested against him every step of the way. He thought about giving in and just going back to bed but he knew if he didn't pass out upon impact with the bed, he'd wind up throwing up from the smell he was giving off.

Inside the restroom, Angel's face cringed as he turned on the light so he quickly flicked the switch back down and decided he could just leave the door open to give him a little more of a pleasant light in the room. He hobbled over and started running the shower water to let it begin warming up. "You are never drinking again," he said to his reflection in the mirror to the medicine cabinet before opening it and grabbing at the Tylenol bottle inside.

Angel filled the tumbler up with water and downed the two small pills quickly, hoping he would keep them down. Next, he began reaching for the hem of his shirt and began peeling everything off. Some bruising on his arm just above his wrist caught his eye and he lifted his arm up closer to inspect the markings. Angel's forehead crinkled up, remembering the pretty blonde left with marks just like this, just where his were in his dream after someone had reached out and grabbed her roughly. She'd tried to struggle away from the man, but he squeezed tighter and yanked her hard.

Swallowing hard, he tried to shake it off. Maybe he would ask Doyle or Cordelia about if he'd maybe gotten into a fight last night that he didn't remember or bring up the girl or something. For now, he just wanted the shower. So, wasting no more time, he pulled the blue and white curtain and clear liner back and stepped inside.

OoOoO

"You think you might've gotten into a fight that you can't remember?" Doyle was obviously amused.

Angel shrugged, taking a seat. It was several hours later but he was still feeling the effects of the previous night. "Not a fight exactly... maybe just a confrontation?"

Doyle chuckled, calling for Cordelia and asked her if she remembered anything like that having happened as he didn't.

Cordelia shook her head. "There was no fighting that I can remember. Some drinking Barry Manilow being sung maybe, but no fists being thrown."

Angel blushed. Unfortunately, he remembered that part, too.

"You feeling that bad that you thought you roughed it up last night?" Doyle asked him.

Angel shook his head. "It's nothing," he said. "Just had a weird thought pass through my head I guess. Teach me to lay off the booze though."

Doyle laughed, slapping his cousin's shoulder. "Ah, but you're just getting into the spirit of things!"

"I think I'd rather pass," he said sheepishly. He wasn't cut out for that.

OoOoO

Unable to shake the girl from his mind all day, Angel went to the small studio area he had set up there at his apartment and sat down. Grabbing for his first tool, he flipped to a blank page and began to draw her.

Angel got so caught up that a couple of hours passed before he took a break. Looking at the clock, he let out a sound of irritation. He really needed to get to bed soon. Looking back to the drawing, he cocked his head to the side. It was eerily detailed and yet he still couldn't place her to anything or anyone. She was beautiful, though. "Alright, mystery woman," he said out loud to the large sheet of paper he'd worked on. He didn't finish up with anything though, just put the supplies and tools he'd used back to their places, wiped his hand down the sheet once, and went off to use the bathroom, changed and then crawled into bed.

Once more, he found himself unable to rest easily. Between a new string of haunting dreams starring the same woman and the storm rolling in outside, he was up tossing and turning most of the night.

OoOoO

"What the hell?" Angel muttered out loud four days later. Having caught a glimpse in the mirror, Angel lifted one arm up and used the other hand to trace along the long cut he found going across his side. His dreams had continued to focus around the same blonde, usually being a cycle of the same few but last night had involved a new one. The same guy was always in the with her, too. He never saw his face, or at least never remembered it, but he knew it was the same guy. The blonde had been arguing with him when his large hands came out and shoved her. She'd fallen backwards and wound up getting a scrape in the exact spot he now had one on a nail when the item it had been holding up got knocked off when she ran into it.

Trying to replay the day before, and his night, he couldn't think of a single reason why he would have a mark like that. Just the same as the last time when he had the bruises near his wrist.

Scratching at his head, Angel brushed it all off though. It wasn't like he'd never woken up with unexplainable bruise marks or anything on his body. This sure seemed to be something strange, but he didn't want to think too much into it because nothing he could come up with made any kind of sense.

OoOoO

Two days later, Angel walked into Doyle's pub and tossed a notebook onto the bar. "Do you know her?" he asked his cousin, pointing to the drawing facing upward. It was, of course, of his mysterious dream haunter. And the drawing was just one of many images he'd created of her. Hell, one of many in that very notebook alone. She was taking off that aspect of his life, too.

Doyle slung the yellow dish towel in his hand over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Taking a step forward, he reached down and picked up the notepad to look it over. "This her?" Doyle asked him. "This the dream girl?"

Angel nodded, taking a seat on the stool in front of him. He'd mentioned her a time or two more to Doyle since all this craziness began.

Doyle let out a whistle of appreciation.

"Do you recognize her?" he asked again.

Doyle stared an extra few seconds then put the notebook back down. "Hate to say it Angel, but I can't place her. I can show this to Cordelia if you'd like but I don't think you'll have a new answer." Doyle touched his pointer finger down to the page. "If she was at the party, I would have remembered."

"Uh huh," Angel replied with a smirk at the way the Irishman had said that last statement.

Doyle had a wide grin. "Hey, my heart may belong to Cordelia, but my eyes can still appreciate a beautiful looking woman."

"Yeah, I wouldn't let her know that," Angel told him and they both laughed. Angel reached out for the notebook and spun it so it was right-side up for him and he sighed. This had been a bust, not that he was expecting it to have gone any other way. But it didn't hurt to ask. Especially after waking up to some sore ribs this morning to match the dream from hours before that.

"You alright?" Doyle asked him a few minutes later.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "Probably just going crazy, but other than that..."

OoOoO

It was nearly three weeks until the next "episode" happened.

"Son of a bitch!" Angel shouted as he popped up awake in his bed. His hands went flying up to cup his face while his head crinkled up and his eyes squeezed shut. One second he was back to being haunted with those crazy dreams, the next being snapped back into reality. The last thing he remembered was the girl trying to get away from the angry, yelling man but he grabbed her before she could get to far. She'd yelled and pleaded with him to let her go but he held onto her shirt, screaming at her... though Angel could never remember and some times not ever hear their voices in the dreams. She'd shoved him away and hurled herself into a corner when he came at her. A hand fisted up and swung into her face.

And that was when he woke up.

"Motherfuck," he shouted out into the empty apartment. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he climbed out and went into the bathroom. His eyes winced as he turned on the light but he gave them a moment to adjust before actually stepping into the room.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, inspecting his new wound. He'd gotten punched in the face more than a few times throughout his life but this? He had no explanation for what-so-ever. The shock of it had gotten to him more than the "punch" itself but the whole thing had him rather shook up. "What the hell is happening to me?" he wondered.

OoOoO

"Okay, seriously here, Angel. You need to get yourself checked out and talk to someone about what's going on with you." Cordelia had a worried look on her face as she spoke, her eyes looking him over again.

"And say what exactly?"

"I don't know! Something! There has to be an explanation for everything going on with you, right?"

Doyle looked from his fiancee to his cousin. "She's right, you know," he said. "That shiner is something else. Something is obviously going on with you."

Angel sighed. "You all know how crazy this all sounds."

Cordelia nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Look, for weeks you have been waking up with bruises and marks that you don't exactly know how got there. You are now walking around with one hell of a black eye and bruised up face. That isn't normal, Angel. You need to talk to someone about this. Who knows, maybe you're doing something to yourself in your sleep and this girl you keep dreaming about is just some weird projecting thing your brain made up to deal with it. Or, you know what, maybe the universe has just gone cockeyed on you and this girl is out there somewhere and needs help."

"You could always start off slow," Doyle offered. "Say how you've been busy with work, trying to finish some of your paintings and stuff, getting ready for your next show and then move into all of this."

Angel sighed again, rubbing a hand down his face and wincing when he hit a particularly still-sensitive spot. "I'll think about it," he told the two of them after a moment. He didn't like the idea though, it was bad enough bringing this crazy nonsense up with them... let alone a stranger? And who would he even go to? His regular family doctor or worse, a shrink? He was sure either way they'd think he'd lost his damn marbles.

Hell, he thought he must have.

OoOoO

Angel decided he would give the craziness that seemed to have found its way into his life a little more time before he started ringing any "I'm crazy" bells and trying to find some professional to discuss what was going on with him. He gave a lot of thought to Cordelia and Doyle's concerns but he wanted to try and figure things out on his own first.

But then the dreams and the strange markings stopped. Nights passed becoming weeks and then it was three months without any other incident before he knew it.

Angel pretty much put it out of his mind by that point. He kept the artwork he had made and would sometimes have her come to mind during a free moment or something similar to that, but for the most part his life just went back to normal. He drew and he painted, he had a pretty good showing at his latest gallery display, he'd been offered another set already which he was back to preparing for. He'd dated a few women casually, visited his extended family for a reunion and just carried on with life as usual.

So, the night they returned, it was easy to say he was caught off guard.

Angel wheezed and coughed as he gasped for air, his hands flying up to his throat. He was slightly panicked as he woke up and it seemed to take forever for him to breathe again. He hurried to turn on his bedside lamp and let his eyes quickly scan the bedroom, making sure he was actually here.

After months of silence, the girl had returned. He'd been dreaming peacefully one minute and the next it was like a sudden fear sunk its teeth into him and everything was black at first but slowly images started to come into focus. Once more, it was like he was a fly on the wall as he watched the blonde fighting with the "shadow man." He felt she had been as calm as him at first, but then it took a turn. A door opened, panic struck, she was backing away and then he attacked her. Hands were on her before you could even blink, gripping tight and pulling her down onto the hardwood floor and his body looming above.

Angel coughed a few more good times, rubbing at his painful throat. He knew the handprints were there without needing to go look in the mirror.

"Maybe the universe has just gone cockeyed on you and this girl is out there somewhere and needs help," had been what Cordelia said to him months ago and right now it was coming back to his mind. He'd not gave that particular statement much thought before as it was too much for him to wrap his head around but right now it was worrying him after what he'd seen. He didn't know how or why such a thing would be possible but now even the crazy idea of it was frightening as hell.

**Idea prompt partially came from a post on one of Facebook's FF writer's groups awhile back. This should be a short one so no worries, I will be back to writing my unfinished other one's here shortly. This was just a story and an idea I wanted to get out of my head and I hope you all enjoy.**


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